You know there is a small luck called "post box bend" you can smell a small fresh to "rich and prosperous" you can see a kind of inheritance called Wen Liang Gongjian let you know there is a kind of lost in the old streets and alleys You can think of a kind of sinking called food paradise You can understand a kind of feelings called Doing solo wandering how much love can come again, Taiwan, my poems and far away...